


(Naughty) Angel In The Outfield

by BellaRisa



Category: Supernatural
Genre: BAMF Dean, Bottom Castiel, Brat Castiel, Brat!Castiel, Corporal Punishment, Discipline, Domestic Discipline, Domestic Fluff, Graceless Castiel, Human Castiel, M/M, Non-Consensual Spanking, Spanking, Top Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-28
Updated: 2016-03-28
Packaged: 2018-05-29 12:58:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6375703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BellaRisa/pseuds/BellaRisa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel fought his reactions, of course.</p><p>He was older than everything except perhaps the sun and the moon, he was no child. The low sobs, the sniffling, the strong desire to beg Dean to "STOP OH PLEASE STOP " and the wish that Dean would gather him up and just hold him, perhaps even rock a little...that was his vessel seeping through, not his true self. No, he just needed to get through this and--</p><p>--and that was when Dean started scolding.</p>
            </blockquote>





	(Naughty) Angel In The Outfield

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LizardWhisperer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LizardWhisperer/gifts).



> I wanted to write a little something for LW, because she's amazing and righteous and all that is good and her pictos make me feel like the bestest most special person in the world every time she makes me one; I know she works hard on them for several of us ficwriters and we ALL love her for it, hope you like it LW and I hope my other readers like it too!

The first time was an accident. After all, who would damn-near burn down a motel room on purpose?

Certainly not Castiel. He loves his humans and would never try to kill them. Definitely not with bacon.

No, all he did was decide to make them a nice breakfast. Sure, they'd told him to stay away from the oven, the microwave, and anything else he didn't fully understand if they weren't right there to assist, because he was more than a little prone to mishap when no one had shown him exactly how an appliance worked. Sam had been the one to patiently clean half the bunker's kitchen after the infamous "Juicer Situation", his hands a lovely faint purple (lilac?) for days after. Dean had laughed then, because it 'was' hilarious; a grown man...physically anyway...standing in the middle of the white tile floor covered in grape juice. Along with everything around him, an absolutely priceless look of shock on his befuddled face. That was frickin' funny no matter how much of a mess it made. Still, Cas could have hurt himself had he put his fingers in that machine, safety latch be damned; so Sam had gone over exactly how it worked and Dean told Cas to "leave shit alone unless you ask one of us first!" before sending their cranky, "just trying to help!" grace-impaired Angel off to the shower.

That really had been an accident. Dean didn't count it as Strike One.

No, it was jolting awake to a smoked-filled motel room that first made his palm itchy. No matter how sweet and generous it was to want to "make breakfast for everyone!", the bottom line (yeah that's not foreshadowing at all) was that Castiel had been told NOT to mess with the sketchy nonsense in that sad kitchenette. The oven was Avocado Green, for fuck's sake; it matched the heinous carpet and obviously hadn't been replaced since the Pet Rock was a thing. Dean went over the exact conversation in his mind as he used the also-ancient-but-working-thank-God fire extinguisher while Sam was packing their crap for a quick exit:

_"--but I simply wish to--"_

_"NO dude, we'll stop at a Denny's or something on the way out in the morning. Don't worry about it and do NOT try by yourself, hear me?"_

_"I am not a child Dean, you don't have to--"_

_"CAS..."_ Dean's low, warning snarl coupled with that _glare_ would've made a werewolf reconsider his plans. 

Cas had nodded, grudgingly; a look that could only be called a pout settling in for the evening. Why he wanted to cook for them so badly was a mystery but he'd been told NO and that was that.

Or it should have been. Instead there was a damaged motel kitchen and a black Impala fleeing into the early morning light. Not from demons or monsters, but from the results of an Angel who must have a hearing problem. A problem Dean wanted to deal with in a way he immediately dismissed as ridiculous and inappropriate; c'mon now.

Still...his palm itched. Mightily.

"What the HELL were you thinking?? I TOLD you to leave that damn kitchen ALONE, didn't I??" Cas sat in the back, his face both ashamed and...defiant...which did nothing for Dean's fury and Sam's major attempt at patience and understanding.

"I'm SORRY, alright?! I truly believed that if I cooked the bacon the way the Alton Brown had done it on his television show you and Sam could enjoy it before the day began. Then...I  knew that we were to leave early; I had the thought that if turning the flame to 'LOW' would cook the bacon in fifteen minutes, surely turning the flame to 'HIGH' would--"

"--would cook it faster," finished Sam, moaning in domestic despair, his long fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. "Cas, you can't DO that, this is why Dean told you--"

"That's why I told you to leave shit ALONE by yourself! God _damn_ it Cas you could have set that whole place on fucking FIRE, and now it's not like you can just--"

Dean didn't finish that. Angry as he was...and Oh Good Fucking God was he angry...he wasn't going to go there. They all knew good and well that Cas had nearly no grace at the moment and how deeply upsetting that was for him (and for them, truth be told), no need to shove it in his face even now. Still...

"At least the case is done and we were on our way out anyways, and we left them some cash to fix things; their insurance should handle most of it and maybe they'll update that insane room." Sam was always able to find the uptick in a situation, had to give him that. Dean relaxed some, the pounding in his temples (and the urge to jump in the back and whoop some Angel Ass) was lessening. In the rearview mirror he saw Cas' face, still stung from that sentence Dean hadn't finished. He felt--NO goddammit, he refused to feel bad about hurting the feelings of the non-listening man-child who could have KILLED all three of them just now--!!!!

The man-child who slumped in the back and looked ready to either smite a city or cry. Or both. Fuck.

"It's alright Cas, nobody got hurt. Just--just *listen* to what we say, please?!?" Cas turned sad eyes, eyes that actually seemed to reflect all the sadness since the beginning of time, to the window as he nodded. "Yes Dean. I truly am sorry, and that is for you as well Sam." Sam reached back from the front seat and patted Cas' knee. Dean still wanted to 'pat' something else. And nowhere near that gently.

But their Angel seemed very sorry. Thwarted and indignant, but sorry. Fine, that was enough.

This time.

 

The second time...now that 'could' be called an accident, if one was being Mr. Rogers level generous and kind. Sam was that level of generous and kind. Mostly because it wasn't HIS car in question.

Here's a tip: when a de-graced Angel misbehaves and wants to make it up to you, watch him. NEVER leave his formerly-feathered ass alone. You will regret the hell out of doing otherwise.

"I simply wished to make your Baby car as clean as I could," grumbled the appropriately-terrified-but-trying-not-to-show-it Angel from across the bunker's garage. The open box of steel wool pads by his bare feet seemed to scream "GUILTY GUILTY GUILTY AS FUCK" directly into Dean's homicidal brain as he tried to untangle himself from his bitch-normous brother's octo-hold in order to end the aforementioned Angel.

_Question: is it homicide if the nut you murder isn't technically human? Answer: WHO GIVES A FUCK HE MUST DIE UNTIL HE'S DEAD FROM ALL THE DYING GAAAAHHHH_

"Cas just GO, go to your room and lock the door and STAY THERE 'til one of us comes to get you now GO", Sam was doing a seriously admirable job of holding down his psycho-at-the-moment brother and talking at the same time. It wasn't easy. The scratches in the Impala's paint would buff out...eventually...probably not before Dean beat the living crap out of the one who'd caused the freakin' scratches. Dean was going BALLISTIC, bawling after Cas like Nicholson in The Shining:

'SAM'S GONNA GET TIRED CAS, HE'S GONNA LET ME GO EVENTUALLY AND WHEN HE DOES IMMA TIE YOU IN A KNOT AFTER I BEAT YOUR ASS LIKE A THROW RUG!!!!!!!" 

"Calm DOWN dude, you know he was just trying to make you happy and--did you just say you're gonna beat his ass like a throw rug??" Dean actually slowed down in his struggling. That did sound kinda awful, even for him.

"Whatever man, Imma KILL him! He KNOWS not to touch my car, EVERYBODY knows not to touch my car--!" Dean stopped fighting completely, running his hand through his hair once Sam let him go. They sat on the garage floor, heaving in air as Sam actually collapsed on the cool concrete. "Are you really gonna...you know..." Sam gave his brother the side-eye.

"What, spank his ass like a five year old? I can't say I don't frickin' want to and this ain't the first time. He's been acting like Dennis the goddamn Menace and you know it, it's gettin' ridiculous." Sam closed his eyes a moment, nodding reluctantly. Castiel had been around since before Moses had a mustache but he was behaving like a child. Dean didn't do well with that, he'd never put up with Sam's baloney back in the day and even in an adult's vessel Cas was doomed if he kept up this...mischief. No other word for it, really...

"You think I'm crazy, don't you."

"...no. No I don't. Spanking a grown man sounds totally ridiculous, but no more than everything else in our lives. Just...he's already sorry--"

"He's ALWAYS sorry and we ALWAYS let it go, that's the problem!"

"--and he's scared of you, you don't want that--"

"The hell I don't, maybe fear will keep his crazy ass away from my car--!!!"

"--so just go talk to him. TALK Dean, explain what he did wrong and go from there."

Dean's expression was like a lemon brought to life and given one emotion: FURY. Still, Sam was usually right and always better with people. And Demons. And Angels who probably needed their asses smacked repeatedly. But once again, Dean would _talk._

And talk he did. He went to Cas' room and found the door open, with the misbehaving, well-intentioned Angel in question sitting on his bed. Black Slayer t-shirt and faded jeans (borrowed from Dean and rolled quite a bit) still damp from his car-washing escapade. Cas didn't cringe when Dean entered, but his entire body seemed to...shrink. Like an angry kitten waiting for a big dog to start barking. Pitiful.

Dean stood In front of him. Cas looked up after a moment. Again with the eyes. Ugh. This guy should be on those _"Adopt This Sad-Ass Puppy Before We Give Him To Voldemort!"_  shelter commercials.

"Put that face away dude, I'm not gonna murder you. Not that you don't deserve it for what you did to my freakin' car." Castiel's expression morphed from miserable to--angry? Frustrated? Dean was taken aback by that look, unsure what it meant. Cas seemed furious all of a sudden and Dean had no idea why. He looked like a crabby eight-year old who's card house kept collapsing and there was no one to blame and punch.

"I only wanted to be good to you after I caused fire and destruction in that motel, _I did not know those metallic sponges would harm your Baby car!_ I just...nothing I attempt is correct...!!!"

Ah. Alrighty then. This, Dean understood.

Squatting down in front of the Angry Angel, he put a hand on his shoulder and made serious eye contact. "I get it Cas, more than you'd think. I know what it's like to want to do things on your own, do things right, and feel like you keep screwing up. Trust me, you're doing fine for a guy who used to have infinite freakin' power and has to be a regular dude now. All you have to do is let Sam and me teach you more about life and crap, and *LISTEN* when we tell you something. I told you to leave the vehicles alone, ESPECIALLY the Impala. Didn't I?" Cas nodded, still angry but he *was* listening.  "When we tell you something you need to hear it. That's the only way we can trust you and we NEED to trust you. Got me?"

Castiel nodded--and Dean took hold of his chin. Got just that much closer to Cas' startled face.

"NO. Don't just nod your head "yes" at me, you do that and then I'm putting out fires or trying not to choke you in half for messin' with my Baby. Do you GET me??" Cas swallowed audibly. Tried to nod, out of sheer instinct, and found that he couldn't; Dean had taken that away. Cas seemed...soothed...by that.

"Yes Dean, I will do better for you and for Sam, and I will work to take away the scratches on--"

"Yeah NO, you're gonna stay away from my car; I'll take care of it. You just--just leave it be, it's all good." Dean stood, patted Cas on the shoulder, and left him to his thoughts.

Castiel sat, far more frustrated than Dean knew.

All he wanted was to make his humans proud of him. Give them reason to trust him, to see him as an equal. So far he'd only managed to sink even lower in their esteem. At least that was how it felt. He couldn't feed them, couldn't help with chores properly, couldn't defend--

Wait. That was something he _could_ do!

He could learn to defend himself so that Sam and Dean didn't have to fret over him, worry themselves with his safety while they fought off the various forces of Darkness--!

Of course he could ask them to train him more intensely than they already were, but if he were to surprise them with his initiative it would be so much for the better; show them that he was responsible, as much an Adult Human as they themselves. What a wondrous idea, and if he were alone he couldn't harm them or anything else. Surely this time nothing could go awry!

Downstairs, sitting on the sofa, Dean absently rubbed his palm on his knee. Damn thing was just... _itchy._

Definitely, indubitably, Strike Two. 

 

Cut to three weeks later. And that third strike just _waiting_ to happen.

Castiel has been, well, an Angel. Allowing Sam to help him learn to cook, and use the appliances properly. Helping with everything from hunts to vacuuming, and--Heaven help us--actually listening when his Winchesters ask him to leave something alone or stay in the Impala (while leaving everything _in_ the Impala the hell ALONE). He's been an asset, sometimes even more of an asset than when he had his grace, to be honest; his instincts are still sharper than the average human and his fearlessness, while worrying for Sam and Dean (and Bobby and Garth and...you get the idea), comes in handy on several occasions. They haven't yet given him his own gun but they will, one day, and for now his prowess with a blade is more than enough. Dean has to admit to himself that their Angel is coming along just fine.

Shame that now Dean's on his way up the stairs, to spank Cas until his Angel Ass is in danger of falling off.

They'd left him alone in the Bunker. He'd been showing such good behavior, such trustworthiness. And frankly he always asked too many questions and said weird things at the movies. So they'd let him stay home to Netflix and chill. Promised to call when the movie was over and see if he wanted them to bring him anything. He'd waved them off absently, intent on his documentary. These humans who could eat anything they liked yet chose to exist on vegetable and fruit juice alone _fascinated_ him.

Which is why ALL of Sam's paternal instincts kicked in when he called. Not that he'd needed them, really, to conclude that something was, um, amiss at home:

"Hey Cas, just checkin' in--"

"NOTHING, WHY DO YOU ASK??" Sam paused. Friggin' uh-oh.

"Cas, are you stuck in a town that feels 'funky'?" They'd taught him how to answer "yes" if he was in trouble and couldn't tell them...

"NO SAM I'M SIMPLY ENJOYING MY PROGRAM, NO NEED TO RETURN AT PRESENT." Uh...yeah. Sam motioned to Dean, back from the restroom and giving a quizzical look, that something was off with the once-Winged-One. Dean silently asked for the phone but Sam waved him off; he had a better idea.

"Cool beans Cas, we're gonna hang out for awhile before we head back. Can we bring you anything?"

No Sam, I'm 'good', as you often say. Do not hurry back, enjoy yourselves and I will see you when you return." They said goodbye and Sam let it go. Obviously hearing that they weren't on their way home had relaxed Cas quite a bit. For Sam it did the opposite to say the least.

"Wassup, is he in trouble?"

"Nope, I don't think so. At least not 'til we get home."

"Aw Dude, seriously? He's been so good...!" Sam gave a fatalistic shrug. "All I know is he sounds like a teenager in trouble in an 80's flick. We need to get back. NOW."

 

They expected chaos. Mayhem. A bunker full of dishwasher bubbles or fifty monkeys with banjos or something.

They did NOT expect what they found.

Castiel, sitting exactly where they'd left him. Still watching Netflix. Nothing seemed even a bit wrong.

Except that Cas jumped a good foot when they came in. Even though he had just enough grace left to 'sense' them any time.

And he was sweating.  Like he was wearing five wool sweaters. In Arizona in July. And nothing in this or any other plane of existence could get him to make eye contact right now. 

Nothing really needed to be said. Everyone in the room knew this wouldn't end well. Dammit. 

"Sammy, stay here," Dean muttered low and deadly, suspicious green eyes boring into SERIOUSLY APPREHENSIVE blue. "Keep him where I can find him. I'm gonna go look for Strike Three."

"...what...?"

"Nothin'; just keep him here." And with that Dean took off in search of...hell, he had no idea.

He checked everywhere, rubbing his itchy palm along his jeans. The garage (OH if he's touched the Impala again--!). Nothing. Checked the kitchen, all the lower libraries and the main War Room...he looked all over and found nothing out of place. Hmmm. Maybe they were wrong, maybe Cas just didn't do well on his own...

And then he checked the bedrooms. 

Sam's room was fine, nothing out of place from what Dean could tell. Bed made and everything (nerd). Shrugging after looking into Cas's room and finding it even neater than Sam's somehow, he was on his way back downstairs when--

Nah, no way. Cas had a Crazy Streak but if he even DREAMED of messin' with Dean's stuff he'd wake up and apologize. 

...right? 

 

" **SAMMY HOLD HIM THERE AND DO NOT LET HIM GO!!!!!" **

Sam had been sitting with Castiel quietly, trying to get the obviously-guilty Angel to confess before they found...whatever. Cas simply sat silently, neither denying nor admitting to anything. 

"Cas just 'tell' me, whatever it is we can make it right IF you tell me before Dean finds out on his own..." He'd put an arm around the distraught being in the 'Tony the Tiger' shirt and pajama bottoms. Cas loved Tony the Tiger, he'd told them so at Target. "I find him comforting, he speaks the truth: his flakes are indeed 'great'! and he is proud to announce such..." Sam absolutely had to buy the pajamas for him while Dean laughed himself sick, Cas watching Dean's fit with a confused yet content expression. Sam would have given a lot to see that look on Cas' face right now, instead of this pale look of a man on his way to the gallows.

From Dean's bellowing that wasn't far from the truth.

Castiel was obviously forcing himself to stay where he was, the FLIGHT instinct kicking in pretty damn hard even without wings or the ability to just teleport elsewhere. Dean came thundering down the stairs and didn't even stop; just hoisted the oddly-nonprotesting Angel up and over his shoulder, rounded the sofa, and headed right back up the staircase.

"Dean what the hell?? You wanna fill me in?" Sam was right behind them; whatever had his brother this furious (and wasn't _his_ fault) he had to see. 

Oh sure, you're gonna LOVE this; won't he, Cas?" The miscreant in question remained silent, as if he knew there was nothing he could say to improve his situation. he was very, very correct. 

Arriving at Dean's room Sam followed his brother inside, watching as Dean lowered Cas onto the bed in a pajama'ed heap. Cas righted himself and sat cross-legged, head bowed. Waiting. 

"Look around Sammy, notice anything? Dean rocked back and forth on his heels, an action that Sam had learned a long time ago meant "RUN, RUN AND HIDE FOR MANY HOURS." Reminding himself that he was no longer eleven years old (not that it _really_ mattered but that's another story) and that  _Cas_  was the one in trouble, Sam visually perused the room. Bed seemed fine, books and nightstand and albums--

Wait. One of Dean's Asia records was hanging on the wall. Not all that unusual, but Dean didn't hang his album covers and he wouldn't put one at that strange spot. Hmm. 

"Go on, I know you see it. Move it and see what it's covering." Stepping over to it, Sam found the cover was only up with a single push-pin (putting a pinhole in Dean's album cover, yet another wrong conversation...!)

Behind the cover was a hole. 

It looked remarkably, horrifically like a hole from a gunshot. 

Oh. Oh NO...

_Strike Three. Game over, little Angel._

"...Yeah. Apparently Mr. Innocent Angel over here decided to play with MY FUCKING GUN, the one I keep under my pillow." Sam stared past Dean at Castiel, who sat squirming and yet somehow perfectly still. He didn't deny it, He obviously couldn't. His head no longer bowed, Cas was gazing balefully at the hole he'd made, as though seeing past it to...who knew what. Obviously he'd resigned himself to whatever fate they decided for him. GOOD. 

"I don't see any signs of a struggle, Castiel. That means you were screwing around with my gun for NO reason. You've got thirty seconds to talk, what you say will decide just how hard I spank your ass." Dean glanced at his brother, daring Sam to say otherwise.

"Don't look at me man, I can't EVEN defend this one. In fact he can explain this to me in the morning, I'm out. 'Night, Cas, good luck." Sam turned on his heel to leave, and paused in the doorway. "...and Cas?" 

Castiel focused his eyes on the younger Winchester.

"...be glad Dean's the one who's gonna deal with this, and not me. At least not this time." Sam leveled Cas with a _look_ that few ever saw and lived to tell about, causing a true flicker of fear and regret in the Angel's eyes before Sam closed the door behind him. The moment the door was closed Dean locked it, the sound pulsing in Castiel's ears and unleashing the panic he's been trying so, so hard to keep in check as Dean descended--

"Dean WAIT, you said that I had time to explain!"

"Changed my mind. You can explain after I'm done with you; and if that means you can't trust me then you know how it feels."

Cas WAILED as Dean manhandled him to the corner edge of the bed, where he set himself down and dropped a suddenly-energized ball of frightened Angel over his left knee; easily gathering both of Cas's hands in his left he threw his right leg over both of the Angel's, and simply got down to business. Yanking the pajama bottoms down to Cas' knees Dean proceeded to spank. And spank. And then he spanked. The pale, snow-white skin began its journey through the various shades of peach, then coral, then onto that deep reddish color that only the freshly sunburned and thoroughly spanked can create. No scolding, no discussion; they both knew why they were there.

Castiel fought his reactions, of course.

He was older than everything except perhaps the Sun and the moon, he was no child. The low sobs, the sniffling, the strong desire to beg Dean to _"STOP OH PLEASE STOP_ " and the wish that Dean would gather him up and just hold him, perhaps even rock a little...that was his vessel seeping through, not his true self. No, he just needed to get through this and--

\--and that was when Dean started scolding.

"You will NOT touch my gun or anything else you KNOW you have no business foolin' with! **_SWAP_**

 ** _"_** You will do as we SAY, Cas, or so help me I will spank your ass every. Single. TIME. you don't LISTEN!!"  ** _SWAP SMACK SWACK_**

"We've lost way too many people we love Cas, we're not losing you and damn sure not for bullshit reasons because you can't act right!!!"  ** _SMACK_**

**_SWACK_ **

**_SMAP_**

**_SWAP_ **

**_SMACK_ **

 ...and that was when Dean broke his Angel. To bits. It was as simple as that. Angels can withstand much, but knowing his Dean Winchester was disappointed enough to discipline him like a child, _and admitted that Cas was loved._..that was just too much for his stubborn, fragile heart. 

Melting over Dean's knee, the rigid form he'd been holding faded away as he rested his forehead on the bed and just...ceased to resist. Dean would spank him forever. Until the War in Heaven was won and another begun. Until they both ceased to be and returned as other creatures. And there was nothing he could do about it, because he deserved it. Perhaps it was indeed a child's consequence. Fitting for an overgrown not-exactly-Angelic child. Which he was.

Bless all that was holy, Dean stopped.

He rubbed Cas's back and let him...that wasn't exactly _crying_ but it was something awfully emotional, shuddery and sad. Dean gave him time, continuing to rub his back (especially up where his wings used to be, that always gave Cas extra comfort though it was never _ever_ discussed) and drift up to his soft, fluffed hair by the nape. And then, when the breathing sounded calm and the heartbeat was likely the same:

"Now talk to me. How the hell did that hole happen exactly? And I know you're not a liar but I'm sayin' it:  _tell me the truth,_ you won't like what happens otherwise." Cas trembled out a sigh, turning his head to the side to be heard. 

"I wanted to practice with a gun, so that you and Sam would have more confidence in me. I didn't want to bother you with even more training, I wanted to teach myself; I saw what to do on the Youtube, but you locked the gun range below the bunker. I realized that I would have to ask for your help after all. Then I thought...I thought that if I could just _hold_ your gun for a moment, when I did ask you or Sam to teach me I would look more naturally skilled if I'd already..."

"...if you'd already held one like the ones downstairs. So let me guess, you picked it up and accidentally cocked it. And when you tried to un-cock it..." Dean left the rest to hang in the air unsaid as Cas gave a barely-perceptible nod. The hole had happened and Cas had NO idea what to do about it. So he'd tried to hide it in an utterly ridiculous way.

Knowing he'd be caught. And very likely knowing he'd be punished. In just this way...

THAT was a series of thoughts for tomorrow. Not tonight. Jesus. 

For now...Dean lifted Cas' sorry self and stood him between his knees. Shamelessly enjoyed the _hiss_ as the pajama bottoms were raised, grazing over the sundown-colored sizzling skin from thigh to backside. 

"I don't have to tell you that you could have been killed, Cas. The way these walls are built that bullet could have ricocheted all over this room if it wasn't just rock salt. I'm still amazed it didn't do more damage. If we can't trust you for ONE evening--"

"You can trust me Dean, I know that I have said such before but--"

"That's just it, you HAVE said it before. Over and over. And I know, you don't mean to lie. But every time you break your word...well, what does that say to you?" Dean hated saying this to his Angel, he really did. But this was better than Cas seriously damaging himself or Dean and his brother or blowing up the damn bunker or something...no, this all had to be said. Now. Cas hung his head. Earning their trust back would be his main priority. Along with...adjusting...his temper. 

"You can formally apologize to Sam in the morning. You owe that to him, for a coupla reasons. You've had this coming for months now, Sam believed you'd learn your lesson without going over my knee. You should thank him for believing in you. Tell him he wasn't wrong and that you're GOING to do better. Aren't you."

It wasn't a question. Cas never wanted this to happen again. 

He didn't think. No, this had been terrible and awful...the weight in his chest that felt so much lighter had nothing to do with Dean's discipline.

Nothing at all.

"We're gonna work harder with you, so you don't feel like you have to prove something all the damn time. I know what that's like, it's a nasty path I still fight with and the last thing we need is you on the same road. Right now though, I want you in bed. You have a long day tomorrow of chores around here and enough training to keep you way the hell outta trouble." Dean grinned as he said this, moving Cas over and rising himself to walk Cas to the door.  

"Dean...I don't...will you..." Cas shuffled his feet a bit, suddenly finding his fingers remarkably interesting.

Dean looked at him. He knew his Angel.

"Sure Cas. No problem." 

And it wasn't. Not at all.

 

Sam ambled down the hall, on his way to the fridge for that last slice of pizza before he crashed for the night. Passing Cas' room, he tried the door to check on their resident brat. He was surprised, for a moment, to find it empty. 

Sure enough, a few more steps and he found his brother sitting up in bed. A copy of Tucker Max's latest book in one hand, and the hair of a lightly snoring not-quite-human being stroked by the other, the rest of Cas deep under the covers.

They nodded, small smiles exchanged.

Sam closed Dean's door, quietly and somehow with love.

Whatever the Trouble with Angels was, tomorrow was time enough to find out. 

**Author's Note:**

> This one was a bit of a challenge, I love me some Top, Alpha Dean but I've been so wrapped up in Bunker Hall that these roles messed with me just a bit until I got rollin' :) Comments *please*, I really wanna hear what folks thought of this one!


End file.
